


Step Right Up (and don't be shy)

by lostonthisisland



Series: The Scourge [2]
Category: Green Day
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Zombies, alternate reality - zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostonthisisland/pseuds/lostonthisisland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He knows how it looks, running with his weapons held tightly in one fist, his other hand running over the dents in the back of his neck. </p><p>He drops his small artillery when Mike drops his, jogging to meet him halfway. </p><p>Turning, Billie starts mumbling words, 'Mike, Mike, did it…am I...am I- god, please, no. Please…'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step Right Up (and don't be shy)

**Author's Note:**

> Dragging out old stuff again.

 

_June, 1995._ _Belmont_ _,_ _Idaho_ _._

 

Billie Joe steps over the twisted wire fence that once kept people out of the amusement park he and Mike are now wandering into. It’s old and long since abandoned, like just about everything else in the world has been since five years ago.

 

There’s a tall roller coaster swooping up to the sky on the other side of the fence and Billie cranes his neck to gaze up at it. Ochre-red rust coats the metal of the tracks and support beams, spreading like a disease from every bolt and welded piece of steel on the thing.

 

He walks with Mike at his side underneath the belly of the dead coaster, their worn boots crunching long weeds beneath their feet. The sun shines steadily, high and bright in the sky, like not a thing is wrong with the world.

 

Billie snorts and itches at his wrist where the dead grass grazed it.

 

“What?” Mike asks, looking at his friend.

 

Billie continues to watch his feet so as not to trip in the tangle, “Nothin’. ‘S just…creepy here, isn’t it?”

 

Mike hums in agreement as their boots finally hit the cracked cement walk winding its way throughout the park.

 

They walk quietly down the path, their eyes straying to the abandoned stores at their sides.

 

Billie stops to stare at a game booth, once brightly colored stuffed bears hanging limply from their necks. Now their dye has faded, their fur covered in mold and dirt. He can’t even tell what the game was, it’s inside gutted except for the little toy animals.

 

Trotting to keep pace with Mike, Billie sees his friend has also stopped to examine one of the little buildings.

 

It’s an old bumper car arena. Half the back wall and ceiling has been torn down, covering a good portion of the place. What they can see is covered in debris, branches of trees and dirt. Weeds are poking through holes in the cracked floor, some pieces of it broken off completely. The little cars sit empty amongst each other, paint faded and chipped, one of them lies flipped over on its side.

 

Billie shivers involuntarily and draws his eyes down the rest of the park, roller coasters weaving throughout the place and a big Ferris wheel looming in the distance.

 

He feels like he should hear the echo of children laughing, something corny like in the old horror movies. Shivering again he shakes his head, banishing the thought. His life is already a horror movie.

 

“Alright.” Mike speaks up from beside him and pulls his pistol from his belt, “We’ve got ‘til sundown to search these buildings and set up camp.”

 

Pulling his own gun out, Billie sighs and nods, walking to the other side of the cement pathway.

 

They scour through the park slowly, the sun on their backs and the only sound in the air is of them shoving doors aside and kicking garbage out of their way. No birds, no bugs, no vermin of any sort. Like the whole world just swallowed up every beloved thing it had ever created, leaving the place barren, waiting for the humans to die so it could go back to the way things were.

 

It certainly looks that way as Billie notes how the trees and weeds and vines seem to smother every manmade piece of structure in reach. Kicking at a branch, Billie maneuvers through what used to be a small food store. _Ice cream store_ , he notes as he touches the dirty glass at the counter, seeing large cylinder holes behind it where colorful flavors of ice cream once resigned.

 

The place seems empty as he makes his way through the back room. There are rotted cardboard boxes strewn about the place and Billie steps over them, his eyes on the small open closet against the back wall.

 

Something is glinting on one of the shelves in there from where the sun streams through a tiny window. Surprisingly, it’s an axe. What is an axe doing in the back of an ice cream shop? Billie thinks about this for a second, his brow furrowing, picturing the place when it was alive and vibrant. Maybe some kind of safety precaution, he thinks and shrugs, whatever it was used for, it’ll sure help him now.

 

There’s a scratching noise right behind him and the hairs on the back of Billie’s neck prickle. He swings his gun up, turning on his heel to aim at whatever made the noise, hoping it’s nothing. But his arms connect with a body and his weapon clatters to the dirty floor.

 

“ _Fuck._ ”

 

The corpse is _right_ up against him, way closer than he’d thought. His arms are still stretched out next to the things face and he rams his elbow back feeling it connect with spongy skin. The thing falters, eyes rolling back, head lolling and arms falling limply away from where they were grappling at Billie’s shirt.

 

He spins and reaches into the closet, fingers wrapping around the handle of the axe, but before he can get a good grip on it he feels a wet mouth close over the back of his neck. Dropping the axe, Billie jerks away from the thing the second it’s on him, his spine ramming into the doorframe of the open closet. He yells out against the pain shooting through his body and kicks a foot out. It lands squarely in the chest of the corpse and makes the thing topple backwards into the opposite wall.

 

Billie dives for the axe at his feet and grabs it tightly. He stands up and swings blindly at the thing as it comes back at him. It stumbles back against the wall again, Billie’s axe lodged in its stomach. Ripping the weapon out, Billie swings again and this time the blade hits its mark.

 

His hand flies to his neck right after, fingers shaking as he tries to feel if the bite was deadly or not. He can’t tell on his own.

 

Billie reaches down to pluck his new weapon from the thing’s neck and he grabs his gun as he spots it on the floor a few feet away before running back out into the park to find Mike.

 

He’s shaking the whole way, his nerves on edge as the possibility of what just happened plays through his head.

 

“Mike!” God, his friend would have to be drugged not to hear the tremor in his voice, “ _Mike!_ ”

 

On cue, Mike flies out of one of the nearby stores, gun ready and aimed at the ground. Billie starts running to him when he sees him and Mike’s eyes go wide.

 

He knows how it looks, running with his weapons held tightly in one fist, his other hand running over the dents in the back of his neck.

 

He drops his small artillery when Mike drops his, jogging to meet him halfway.

 

Turning, Billie starts mumbling words, “Mike, Mike, did it…am I...am I- god, please, _no._ Please…”

 

He can’t seem to keep it together when he feels Mike’s calloused fingers on the back of his neck. Tears are rolling hotly down his cheeks and he barely hears his friend say, “It didn’t break.”

 

“W-what?” Billie’s hand flies back to his neck, running over the teeth marks there again.

 

“Relax, Bill. It didn’t break the skin. You’re okay.”

 

Mike sounds immensely relieved and suddenly Billie feels embarrassed. He scrubs at his wet face with the sleeve of his jacket and blinks up at the bright sky, “You’re sure?”

 

“I’m sure.” Mike says and wipes his own arm over his forehead, “Fuck, I’m sure.”

 

Blowing out a shaky breath, Billie nods and wipes at his eyes one more time before picking up his new axe.

 

“I found this.” He says and holds it out to Mike.

 

“Ugh, it needs to be cleaned,”

 

He’s right, Billie thinks as he stares at the corpse sludge on its blade.

 

“And so do you.” He adds, nodding at the same zombie fluid smudged on Billie’s arms and clothes.

 

“Yeah sure, just fire up the hot shower and I’d be glad too.” Billie sniffs, the tremor finally fading from his voice.

 

Mike laughs hoarsely and picks up his pistol from the cement, the sound brittle in the warm air.

 

They scout the rest of the park quickly without anymore incidents, the sun falling behind them. Mike finds two corpses hiding in the soiled remains of a gift shop and wastes them with his pistol fast.

 

When they’re sure the park is zombie free they set up camp in one of the gutted buildings, Mike’s bag dropping tiredly to the floor.

 

They only ever carry around one bag, it’s all they need. A single sleeping bag is shoved into it along with bottles of water, what’s left of a first aid kit, and some food that they’ve managed to scrape together.

 

“Hey, stay here.” Mike says as he grabs the half empty backpack and runs back out into the park. Billie’s busy rolling out the sleeping bag and he watches as his friend runs into the faintly lit park, the sun now breaching the skyline.

 

When Mike gets back it’s with a triumphant grin and a flourish of the now full backpack. He dumps out the contents of the bag on top of the sleeping sack and Billie stares at it.

 

The first thing that spills out is what looks to be almost two dozen snacks from a vending machine; chips, multigrain bars, cookies, gummy bears, Funions, nuts and even _gum_.

 

“Hah!” Billie barks, watching as packs of cigarettes follow, all the colors of about five different brands.

 

Lastly, their old water bottles and first aid stuff falls out, proving that the whole bag wasn’t new goodies.

 

But neither of them care, this is the most they’ve found of food or _cigarettes_ in any one place for a long time.

 

“The vending machines weren’t empty?” Billie asks as he paws through the junk food and plastic wrapped cigarette packs.

 

“There was a half full one in the back of one of the buildings, along with all these in their very own machine,” Mike waves a hand at the pack of Marlboros Billie’s currently trying to open, “completely untouched!” he exclaims happily, eyes crinkling around the corners.

 

“Man, they musta been too creeped out by this place to even search it properly.” Billie finally gets the pack open and puts a cigarette stick under his nose, taking a long smell of the nicotine within it, “God, it’s been too long.”

 

Mike watches his friend, smile still stuck on his face, “If only there was coffee, I could die happy.” He says and Billie bursts out laughing, Mike joining in.

 

They laugh like that for a long time, just relishing the feeling of joy swirling through their stomachs. Until Billie wipes at his eyes as the laughing dies down, his cigarette is popped in his mouth and he searches his pockets for matches.

 

“Oh man,” He breathes contently, fingers closing around a Bic lighter instead. He lights it with little difficulty, miraculously the things still got some juice in it, and sits back inhaling the smoke.

 

Together the two friends sit on the grungy floor, simply watching through the open doorway as the sun sets on the park. Until it does they have some time before the masses come. The things don’t much like sunlight for some unknown reason; they prefer to come at night, gathering in groups to feast on the warm flesh hiding away.

 

Billie wonders if they’ll ever stop coming. He wonders if maybe one day they’ll kill every single one of their staggering, undead bodies, him and Mike and the other last living people on this godforsaken Earth. Maybe one day they won’t have to take turns guarding and they’ll both be able to sleep. Peacefully. Knowing that nothing is hunting them that night.

 

“Well.” Mike says as the last of the sun dips below the horizon. He grabs his pistol and the new axe Billie found, shuffling out into the night. He shuts the door and Billie’s left in darkness, the embers on his cigarette glowing brightly in the small room.

 

He thinks they’re never going to stop hunting them. Billie fingers the spot on the back of his neck where the corpse had bit him earlier. The indentations of its teeth mark are long gone and Billie sighs, crushing his cigarette out somewhere behind him. Not until he’s dead, he thinks, and gets as comfortable on the worn sleeping bag as he can, falling into another restless slumber.


End file.
